


Oceans don't compare

by MadLulu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Injury, Boba is just hurt, Cal is a medic, Courting Rituals, Hand Jobs, M/M, Medical Care, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, but it is, non explicited, nothing critical, or not?, they're both idiots your honor, this was not supposed to be that smutty, where Cal is not a Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadLulu/pseuds/MadLulu
Summary: “You’re feverish.”“I’m fine! I don’t need your mother-henning. Give me some bacta and I’ll leave.”
Relationships: Boba Fett/Cal Kestis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Oceans don't compare

**Author's Note:**

> This idea wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Seriously I was supposed to do Jangobi Week and instead I'm writing 5k+ of Kesett.  
> I am very confused about this smut also and I have no idea if it is any good. I hope so.  
> Also this is a complete AU where Cal is not Force sensitive and he has a clinic somewhere that he runs with Merrin. I might develop this later since I have apparently no impulse control. Boba is a bounty hunter that had to hide around there at some point and threatened Cal into treating him at the time. Shenanigans ensued and now Cal is his sort-of medic.  
> Thank you to everyone on the discord server who enabled me way too much and even helped me find the title. You know who you are ♥  
> Enjoy the fic!

The skin twitches under his palm, a yelp accompanied by a flinch marking the profound dislike Boba has for the process. Cal rolls his eyes and gets back to his task. He presses the bacta-soaked cloth to the blaster wound again, ignoring the Mandalorian's sound of displeasure. He's used to it. Boba always hated medicare for as long as he's known him. He smirks a little and puts the cloth away in the basin on the examination table.

"What was it this time? Another hunter? A gundark?"  
"Shut up," Boba snaps at him. "The fucker had back-up. That damn sniper took me by surprise, it won't happen again."  
"Hmhm. You know, maybe if you weren't so stubborn about working alone-"  
"I don't need hel- Hey! Careful with that!"  
"I need to access your wound if you want me to treat it."  
"You're not touching my armor, back off!"

He rolls his eyes. It's like taking care of a feral nexu. He puts his hands on the edge of the cuisse again, slowly but gently disengaging the maglock then putting the armor piece away. Boba is as tense as a traction cable but he doesn't protest again. He starts to peel away the bottom half of the bodysuit very slowly, soaking the cloth with bacta diluted with warm water. As usual when Boba seeks his aid, he waited too long and his wounds are worse than they could have been. The blood started coagulating in the wound and the cloth above, making the process of removing the undersuit very delicate.

“That’s not a blaster wound,” Cal remarks calmly.  
“Fucker had some kind of attack pet, never seen one like this before.”  
“What did it look like?”  
“Why do you care?” Boba grumbles and he sighs.  
“Because. You have no idea of it could be venomous or something. So, if I need to treat you for venom or a blood thinner or-”  
“Alright! I get your point. And it looked like some sort of strill I think? But with more fur, some sort of dog maybe. It didn’t feel venomous when it tried to rip my leg off.”  
“Right.”

Cal sighs and soaks the suit above the wound again, carefully avoiding to note Boba’s whimper of pain. The man seems to always make a point of acting like his wounds are nothing but this… He’s in a bad state honestly. The wound on his chest is nothing out of the ordinary – for him – but this one… It’s high on his thigh, a large jaded gash caused by a claw probably. And it’s already starting to look infected.

“Boba?” He waits for a response before pursuing. “You wound has coagulated around your suit, it’s getting infected. I have to reopen it to- Can I give you pain-killers?”  
“No. No drugs.”  
“Boba.”  
“Please. I- Give me something to bite and rip it off, I’ll be fine.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just going to take time. If I soak your undersuit enough with warm bacta water it should help but… Well, it would be better to actually have you leg entirely immerged I think.”  
“I don’t have time for this!”  
“Do you want me to treat you or not?” he snaps back. “The wound looks bad; I have to remove your suit to treat it but if I do it too quickly, I could worsen it. You should have come sooner.”

Boba is not looking at him, his gaze fixed on the wall of his examination room. He sighs and soaks his medical cloth once more to wring it above the wound. Boba makes a pained whimper again, his jaw tense but still not looking at him.

“Can you st- Boba? Can I touch you?”

He just noticed the slightly red cheeks and the glassy eyes. Kriff. He reaches slowly and puts a hand on the man’s forehead. He winces. It’s hot, not burning but…

“You’re feverish.”  
“I’m fine!” he snaps. “I don’t need your mother-henning. Give me some bacta and I’ll leave.”

He starts to get up and away from the table to retrieve his upper body suit. Cal rolls his eyes at his foolishness and count to three in his head before the wounded leg falters and Boba almost crashes against the table. He takes him by his arm firmly and sighs then guide him to sit back on the table.

“You’re going nowhere in this state.”  
“I can’t stay here either, I- You don’t-”  
“What, you have morals now? You didn’t exactly concern yourself with them the first time you threatened me into patching you up. Don’t worry, if I was concerning myself with money or safety, I wouldn’t hold a free clinic on an outer-rim world.”

He helps Boba to put on his upper suit back, wincing in sympathy when raising his arms pulls at the wound on his flank. He gathers the mandalorian’s armor in a bag then helps him out of the clinic and locks the building for the night, happy that he convinced Merrin to go home early for once. At least he didn’t have patients staying for the night either. They limp to his apartment nearby, Boba’s wounded leg slowing him down even after he accepted his help to walk.

The stairs are a torture and he’s thanking all the Gods he can think of that he lives on the first floor and not higher. He helps Boba lean against the hallway wall and unlocks his door. The tooka infiltrated his apartment again and he sighs. The damn animal always manages to get in and he still can’t figure how. He hisses at him then run out, passing between his legs.

“You have a cat?” Boba asks disbelievingly and he shrugs.  
“More life a feral nuisance that keeps turning up in my room. Come on, the fresher is this way.”

He almost drags Boba – and damn but the man is so heavy even without his armor, where is he packing all that weight? – to his fresher then helps him strip everything that he can. He now has a half-naked man in his place, more or less sitting in his laundry basket full of warm water with a bacta solution.

“You know, I think that of all the bizarre things I have ever done,” and there are a _lot_ of them, “this is actually the first time I have a bounty hunter sitting in my laundry basket.”  
“So? You mean that I’m the only one you ever healed?”

No, it means he’s the only one he ever let get away with threatening him for medicare. And the Force knows Boba is not the first to have tried, far from it. He checks the state of the undersuit et tries to peel it from the man’s leg again but Boba winces in pain and he stops. It’s gonna be a long night.

“You didn’t answer my question,” the bounty hunter points out.

He shrugs and stands up, yawning. He’s exhausted, wish he could go to bed but he doesn’t exactly trust Boba not to do something stupid if he goes to sleep.

“I’m gonna get some food. You hungry?”

Boba emits a grunt of approval at the idea of food and he drags himself to his small kitchen. The cooler is desperately empty and his cupboard are not really better. He unearths some sort of still edible takeout and rewarm it on the stove.

Boba is drowsing against the wall, still sitting in his laundry basket with the look of the thoroughly done and exhausted. He frowns in empathy and divides the meal in two plates then walks over to hand him one with a fork planted inside.

“What’s this?”  
“Food. Don’t worry, I didn’t make it: it’s leftover from takeout I didn’t eat.”

Boba takes the plate in his hand cautiously and ends up inhaling his food in a manner of minutes. He smiles at the eagerness and sits cross-legged on the floor in front of the man to eat his own plate. He manages to eat half of it and gives the rest to his guest. He’s gonna need it anyway.

“How’s the leg?” He asks once they’re done eating.  
“Numb. I think the water’s getting cold too.”

He sighs and grabs the plates to put them away in his sink. When he comes back to the fresher, Boba is trying to strip his lower half again while grinding his teeth. His jaw is so tense he can actually see the muscles move. He snatches his wrist away from the fabric.

“Don’t touch. I’m the medic here, you’re just gonna hurt yourself.”  
“Then kriffing _do_ something already. I can take it, I don’t care if it hurts.”

He rolls his eyes once more and releases the wrist. He stands up and washes his hands in the sink. Then, he sits back down on Boba’s side on the floor. The wound and undersuit are actually completely soaked in congealing diluted bacta at this point.

He rolls his sleeves and uses one hand to pin Boba’s hips to the edge of the basket as much as he can and keep the wound in the water. Then, as slow as possible, he peels away the ruined undersuit from the wound. Blood begins to seep in the water, coloring it red, and Boba whimpers in pain. He grits his teeth and keeps going until there is nothing touching the wound.

At this point, Boba looks like he’s about to pass out so he finishes stripping him entirely. His underclothes are a waste too anyway. Right. Now he has a completely naked bounty hunter in his fresher. An unconscious one since he apparently decided it was a good idea to give in and fall unconscious now.

He snorts at the display. As dangerous as the man is, he just looks vulnerable now. It’s almost cute. With a lot of swearing and effort, he gets him out of the laundry basket and sprawled on a clean towel on the floor. The wound still doesn’t look good but at least he can treat it now.

Fifteen minutes later, he now has an unconscious naked bounty hunter in his bed instead of his fresher. At least the man is somewhat clean and not in the process of dying now. He glances at his fresher, sighs, and sets up to clean it of the bacta residue, spilled water and blood.

By the time he crashes in bed, it’s past three in the morning and the guest under his sheets barely registers in his mind. He’ll think about it tomorrow.

* * * *

He wakes up in panic because there is _someone_ in his back breathing on his neck. He takes something like several minutes to remember who the person in question is and why they’re in his bed. He’s very not used to having someone in his bed. Most night he tends to sleep on his couch anyway. Or at the clinic more often than not.

Except now, he has a naked man plastered to his back, one he might have had a tiny bit of a crush on for what… A year and a half? He’s fucked. Boba is groaning in protest against his nape and his arm is around his waist, pressing his chest against his back.

He gets out of bed as discreetly as he can. He even manages not to wake Boba up by some sort of miracle. He showers and grabs a snack, chases the damn tooka out of his apartment again and locks the door as he heads out. With some luck, the bounty hunter will sleep through the morning and he can push him outside at his midday break.

He spends the morning on some paperwork and, an hour or so before his break, a stupid idiot son of a gundark ends up in a speeder crash which divert what looks like half the town to the clinic. When he can finally get out – no he was not kicked out, he can take care of himself Merrin, thank you – it’s dark and he left Boba in his apartment for a whole day.

He’s almost afraid to go home. At least, his door is intact, he’ll take that as a good sign. He unlocks it and enters warily, as silent as he dares to be. Then, he blinks in confusion. He can hear whistling in the kitchen and… What happened to his flat? Did he confuse his door with his neighbor’s again?

“What the kriff?” He asks to the air, baffled. “What did you do to my- What-”  
“It’s called cleaning. You should try it sometimes.”

That’s offensive. He’s offended. He hates this guy.

“I’m- Wha- My apartment was _clean_ , not- Why did you do this?”

Alright, he can admit he’s not the most organized person ever, which is in big part due to his work at the clinic. He rarely has time to really clean and he tends to run on takeout and as few dishes as he can but… This is excessive. Boba must have spent his day on it. Everything is neatly organized where it should be, his little souvenirs and holos on the shelves, his floor is cleaner than he ever bothered to make it. He even did the dusting and-

“Did you _cook_?! But- Boba- Is that the damn cat?”

He glares at the animal who’s napping on his couch on a blanket he completely forgot he had. The nuisance returns the favor by yawning, wide and smug. That’s it, he gives up. He shuts the door behind him and chucks his shoes against the door. Boba is looking at him from the kitchen, a pleased look on his face.

“Here, try it,” he says and hands him a spoon of-  
“What is it?”  
“Stir-fry rice with vegetables. Careful, it’s hot.”

He frowns, still confused to hell, and takes Boba’s wrist to bring the spoon to his mouth and take a bite. It’s good, a bit on the spicy side but full of flavors and- Damn, he shouldn’t but he wants to kiss him.

“Did you do this to thank me?”

Boba shrugs and looks away, his dark cheeks dusted with red. He realizes that the bounty hunter probably doesn’t know how to express gratitude. And he saved his life last night, brought him to his place and let him sleep in his bed.

“Boba,” he smiles fondly, “Thank you, really, but you didn’t need to- I didn’t heal you to have something in return.”  
“I know. I wouldn’t do this if it was the case, I- You didn’t have to- Is it okay? I can leave if you want me to.”

He shakes his head slowly. He can appreciate the cleaning, the meal and everything. He’s just completely baffled. And a little bit pleased. Damn, but he can enjoy good things when they happen.

“I’m- I’m gonna take a shower.”

He flees to his fresher. He wanted to kiss him, just right there with the orange light of the kitchen lamp and the _kriffing spoon_ and this weird domestic scene. The shower is as short and cold as he can make it. He slips in clean sleep pants and a sweater and pads quietly to the kitchen. Boba is still cooking, whistling softly as he stirs his pan. Where did he find all this, he wonders. It’s not like he cooks a lot himself.

He takes a minute to observe the man, his back to him and the muscles he sees underneath. That’s not one of his shirts curiously. Or at least not one he remembers. Maybe something left by an ex-lover? His hair are brown curls that he usually cuts close to his scalp but he must have spent a lot of time doing back-to-back hunting because they’re getting long. He wants to reach out and touch it. He could, they’re close now that he’s leaning on the door frame.

“Where did you find these clothes?” he asks instead.  
“Your closet. Figured you didn’t use them much if they fit me.”  
“Hmhm. And the food?”  
“You had some cans in the cupboard. Why? You afraid the landlord will scream at you if they find out you had someone in your place?”  
“No. The door was just locked when I came back.”  
“I could have sliced the lock.”

He smiles and gets in the kitchen to pull out two plates and forks. He puts everything on his caff table and chase the cat outside again. His blanket is covered in fur. Great. He goes back to the cooler in search of something to drink.

“Beer?” he asks.  
“That the medic’s prescription?” Boba teases him.  
“More for me, then,” he retorts.  
“I didn’t say no.”

He snorts and takes a couple beer from his cooling unit and opens them with practiced ease. One minute of shuffling later and they’re tucking in the meal on the couch.

“You should have a table to eat,” Boba points out between bites.  
“Why? You planning on moving in?”  
“I’m just saying… Even my ship looks homier than this place.”

Cal rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer. He didn’t plan to stay in this apartment at first. He hasn’t planned much of anything in the last seven years really. It’s why he stays to sleep at the clinic more often than not. He wanted some sort of home for himself at some point. Jaro was supposed to be it. Maybe. It was seven years ago and he’s still not sure what he’s supposed to do about it. He misses him a lot. He was so sure- But it doesn’t matter now.

Boba is looking at him with a worried frown and he smiles at him. He still wants to kiss him and it’s distracting. The meal was good and he feels full and content and sleepy after his long day. He just wishes…

“Hey,” Boba calls him softly, “You should go to bed.”  
“If I go, you’re gonna leave,” he mumbles.

Boba shots him a guilty look. Right. Shouldn’t expect anything from a bounty hunter. For a moment there, he lost it from view and… He shouldn’t dream. Not about this. Boba is not a good person. He’s not disappointed, he’s not. Maybe a little but who cares?

“Cal…”  
“No. I don’t want to hear it. Just… Take your armor and leave. You’re welcome for- Saving your life, I guess? Thank you for the meal.”

He gets up and Boba tries to catch his arm but he’s too slow, still injured.

“I don’t want your opinion on my life. I don’t need it. You wanted me to patch you up and I did. I didn’t do it for the reward of whatever you think you’re doing.”  
“Cal.”

He has no right to sound that soft, that _hurt_. Kriff. What is he doing? He passes a hand through his hair and carefully doesn’t look at Boba.

“Please, I- If you’re- I don’t- If you’re gonna leave then don’t- Please, don’t-”  
“Don’t what? Cal?”  
“Don’t act like my boyfriend. You- I wan-”

He didn’t react fast enough this time. His first reflex is to fight the embrace but then he notices that Boba is only embracing him, his nose nuzzling his neck as he trembles faintly. He feels like he’s falling apart at the seams.

“You’re touch-starved,” why, yes, he is, thank you for noticing, Boba. “I’m sorry, I- Would you want that? Me, as your boyfriend?”  
“Y-You… What? I- What?”

His boyfriend? Like in a relationship? But Boba is not- He just comes here to get bacta and for him to patch up his more severe injuries and- Oh. Ok. Kissing. He can do kisses. He’s still exhausted and touch-starved and way too clingy but he can. Oh yes. Boba is stroking his back slowly, just a light caress he can barely feel. That’s nice. Really nice. He’s not whimpering. He’s not.

“This okay?” Boba asks, low and a bit hoarse.  
“Hm. More kissing, less talking.”

They stumble step by step to his room, making out like teenagers. Kriff but it feels so good to have Boba’s hands slipping under his top. He really should have done something about that touch-starved problem before but the clinic has been very busy these past weeks. He feels drunk, high on touch and endorphins and- Kriff but he needs more.

“Boba,” he whines between kisses, “Boba, please.”  
“What do you need?”

Fuck, that voice is doing _things_ to him. It’s like it goes straight between his legs. He kisses Boba again, messy and hot, his arms around his shoulders. There are hands on his back, his ass, always moving, sliding on his skin, under his clothes, on his neck.

“Y-Your hands. Fuck, it feels so good. Need you to touch me more.”

Boba smirks and keeps on caressing him as he pushes him gently to his bed. He feels overwhelmed but it’s not enough. He grips the man’s shirt in his fist, trying to catch his breath – and when did he start to pant like that? – and stop his legs from trembling. Boba chuckles and finally removes his sweater, his hands going down his shoulder, his back. He moans and rests his forehead against a shoulder.

“Too much?” Boba asks, surprisingly gentle.  
“N-No. I- Bed?”

Boba chuckles again and hums in approval, his fingers dip lower, teasing his ass a bit, then he takes a step back so they can take off the rest of their clothing. He examines his wounds by automatism, notes the almost healed one on his ribs, the clean bandage on his leg. Then Boba distracts him by pushing him on the bed and climbing on his lap to kiss him.

He whimpers in the kiss, arches his back a bit when Boba pins his arms to the mattress. He whines, wants to touch him but the man is merciless. He diverts his kisses to his neck, his throat his collarbone, his arms are still pinned to the bed and with Boba straddling his hips he can’t do anything more than arch under his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

“If I let you go, you gonna keep your hands where they are?” Boba teases him.

He nods frantically and Boba smiles, his hands follow the curve of his arms, stroking his skin from his wrists to his hips. He shivers, and closes his eyes at the sensation. It’s so good, he feels hot and hard yet Boba barely did anything. He’s petting his hips, his thumbs doing little circles on his inner thighs, then he’s spreading his legs slowly, testing his flexibility.

“Boba, please,” he pleads.

He moans Boba’s name when he finally takes him in his hand. He is definitely not gonna last in this state. He had a long day and everything feels overwhelming in a good way. Maybe he should have thought about not being too loud for his neighbors but at this stage he can’t think of anything except the hand stroking him. He distantly hears himself letting out little cries of pleasure every time Boba thumbs his slit or his knuckles brush his balls.

“You should hear yourself,” the bounty hunter breathes in his ear. “So needy. You’re gonna wake your neighbors moaning like this.”  
“Boba, please, I- Hng. More. I’m-”

Boba kisses him, swallowing his noises and he moans in his mouth as he comes all over his hands. He falls back on the bed, boneless and exhausted and panting. His brain doesn’t feel like catching up with his body, it’s like white noise everywhere.

“Good?”

He’s gonna wipe this smirk from Boba’s face if it’s the last thing he does. Maybe. Once he can catch his breath and get the energy.

“Kriff you,” he mumbles and Boba laughs.  
“That’s the idea here, yes.”

He sighs in pleasure, stretches slowly as his lover wipes him clean with a tissue. He’s showing off a little maybe but Boba is looking at him with hunger in his eyes and he likes that a lot. He gets his hand in brown curls and tugs to get another kiss, deep and hot.

There is a knuckle pressed behind his balls, teasing his perineum, and he moans in the kiss, tensing a bit. He needs so much more than just a quick hand-job now that they’re on his bed. But since Boba was nice enough to take the edge off, he can take his time.

He coaxes Boba’s tongue in his mouth, slips his hands at the small of the bounty hunter’s back. He can feel his hard-on against his thigh and he smiles in the kiss, teases a lip between his teeth and relishes the sigh of pleasure it gets him. It’s empowering, feeling Boba hard against him like this. Not humping on it exactly but…

“I don’t like that smile,” Boba frowns.  
“Too bad, I’m in charge now.”

He flips them over, straddling the brown-haired man’s lap and pins him to the bed, his hands on his shoulders. He sighs in pleasure as Boba slides his hands on his hips again, then his ass.

“Want to ride me?” he teases.  
“You have no idea. But I’m gonna take my time so you stay like that and be a good boy.”

Boba flushes darkly and he chuckles. That might be some kind of praise kink. He should test that later. For now, he has other concerns. He leans forward, bracing one hand on the bed to get to his drawer and retrieve condoms and lube. He tosses everything in easy reach on the bed and goes back to kissing Boba.

They make out a bit, slow and nice. He can feel Boba relax under him. He’s taking his time, massaging him a bit as he strokes his sides, his chest. Boba is moaning in his mouth and he likes that a lot. Finally, he gets up, kneeling on the bed, and catches the lube. He smirks at Boba, playing with the bottle a bit.

“You stay like that, okay? No touching for now.”  
“Alright. I’ll just enjoy the show I guess.”

Cal rolls his eyes and squeezes lube on his fingers. He’s not exactly trying to be a tease but he can’t let Boba prep him. He needs to be efficient right now, not high strung on arousal before Boba takes him. That doesn’t stop him from enjoying the feel of his own fingers circling his entrance. He sighs a bit.

“Feels good?” Boba asks and he nods, starting to move inside. “I bet it does. You have no idea how bad I want to feel you. Just make one thrust inside and end up buried in you. Kriff, you’re so hot.”  
“Shut up,” he blushes.

Boba is hot too, his skin sprinkled with marks and scars but he doesn’t mind. He has warm eyes, kind hands. It’s hot where they’re touching. The man is a furnace and it’s amazing. He gets a second finger inside, stretching himself carefully and Boba is smirking. Fuck.

“I could do it, stretch you like that. I’d put you on your knees and spend so long doing it until you’d be slick and ready for my cock.”

He didn’t keen. He didn’t. Absolutely not. Kriff, now he’s searching for his prostate by reflex. No. He needs to- Boba slides his hands on his thighs, stroking skin up then his fingers are on his ass-cheeks, teasing his crack.

“Boba,” he whines, “please, don’t.”  
“Hmhm, tell me what you want, then.”

Oh, it’s unfair. He’s sounding so controlled. He wants to see him undone and begging under him.

“Want to take you in so slowly, make you mad with it. Maybe I should tie you to the headboard?”

Boba’s eyes widens and his hips thrust up on instincts. Oh yeah, he likes the idea. He finally takes a third finger in. It feels very good, not as good as what he’s gonna get later but the stretch is comfortable, not painful in any way and picturing Boba doing it… He’s getting hard again.

“Definitely tie you up,” he sighs. “I’m sure you’d like it too, you’d be so good like this, let me use you- ah-”

He lets his fingers slip out of him, takes a second to catch his breath and stop Boba from flipping them again, distracting him with a kiss. He’s not really gonna tie him to the bed. He doesn’t have anything available in term of safe restraints. But maybe they can do without?

“So good to me,” he breathes against Boba’s lips, “so perfect, want you so bad.”

Boba whines and he grins at him, fumble a little with the packet for the condom. The man moans loudly when he slips it on his cock, enjoying the weight of it in his hand as he strokes him. Then, he takes his wrists and makes him touch the headboard.

“Leave your hands there? You’ll like it if you can manage it, I promise.”

Boba nods and he smiles, leans forward to reward him with a slow, heated kiss. He can feel Boba’s cock slipping between his cheeks, teasing his hole. He takes it in his hand and very slowly he sinks down on it.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Cal, so good, so tight. Kriff you’re so hot around me.”  
“Boba,” he whines as he sits himself completely.

He puts his hands on Boba’s chest to support himself. Fuck, he didn’t expect it to be such a stretch. He breathes out slowly, taking his time to get used to the girth of the cock inside him. His hands roam on dark skin, caressing lightly. Boba looks lost in his pleasure, mouth open in a o and eyes closed.

“So good Boba, leaving your hands up like this for me. So hot inside me, love.”

Boba keens in pleasure, flushing darkly down to his chest. Definitely a praise kink.

“I’m gonna move slow, ok?” he warns. “Try not to move.”

He braces himself and lifts his hips very slowly, just a little. Then he gets back down just as slow. He falls into a crawling rhythm and Boba stays where he is, moaning his name. He looks gorgeous, wanton and lost, eyes half closed and cheeks reddened. He keeps going like this for what feels like such a long time, enjoying the feel of being full and in control.

“So good for me, Boba, such a good boy. Fuck I could do this for hours.”

He takes his time, leans forward to kiss him. It’s messy and uncoordinated, mouths open and panting. The cock inside him is already twitching but he doesn’t speed up, prefers to lay himself on Boba and whispers in his ear.

“Don’t come yet, just a little longer. I know you won’t last, you can make me come on your fingers after.”

Boba swears softly at the image, his hips twitching up and he brushes against his prostate. He keens and tightens around him by reflex and that’s enough. Boba comes inside him with a long whine as he keeps his slow motions through his orgasm.

He slips out, a bit breathless and harder as he’s ever been. Boba is looking at him with a lopsided smile, expression relaxed and happy. He chuckles and kisses his lips gently before collapsing beside him on the bed while he recovers.

“Good?” he asks.  
“So fucking good. C’me here.”

Boba makes him turn to share a longer kiss. He sighs against his lips and slots himself half on him, one leg between his. He’s still hard but it’s distant after the satisfaction of making Boba come like this.

“Still want me to…”

He nods at Boba and, carefully, the Mandalorian manhandles him until he’s on his elbows and knees. He feels exposed like this, blushing hard as Boba gets in his back after tossing the condom somewhere. He doesn’t tease him though, probably a bit too tired for that, he just directly puts two fingers in him aiming for his prostate with brutal accuracy.

He keens at the wave of pleasure and cants his hips back to take more. Boba chuckles and circles his waist with his free hand to stops him from moving. He’s moaning and he doesn’t care, Boba’s name running from his lips like a prayer as he fucks into him with his hand.

“Yes, yes, _please_ , mor- Boba!”

His orgasm makes him scream, fists clenching on the sheets in front of him. As he comes down, he realizes Boba must have made him turn around because he’s on his back and the bounty hunter is cleaning him with a wet cloth. Probably a towel from his fresher. He enjoys the cool feeling on his oversensitive skin and closes his eyes with a pleased sigh.

“Thanks. I- I think I needed that.”  
“Glad to be of service,” Boba laughs.

Then he’s pushing them under the covers and cuddling on his side. He smiles, comfortable and warm.

“You’re staying tomorrow?” he asks sleepily.  
“Yeah. We can talk.”  
“Still want a boyfriend,” he yawns.  
“Me too.”

He cuddles back, turning so he can use Boba’s chest as a pillow. And sure, the man grumbles for a second but then he closes his arms around him and it’s very nice. It probably won’t be easy, having a bounty hunter as a boyfriend, but he’s willing to make the effort. Boba is a gruff, sensible man. One that’s worth the worry and the eventual screaming matches.

“Stop thinking. Sleep,” the Mandalorian grouses against his hair.  
“You first,” he mumbles back with a kiss on his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or a kudo! It's what motivates me to keep writing.  
> I am @madluluwriting on tumblr. Come say hi! I love when people say hi.


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